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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22644925">I am not so nice to change true rules for odd inventions</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haunted_Frost/pseuds/Haunted_Frost'>Haunted_Frost</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Android Gavin Reed, Elijah Kamski &amp; Gavin Reed are Siblings, Gen Z Elijah Kamski, Gen Z Gavin Reed, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Work In Progress, millenial Hank Anderson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 12:39:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,352</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22644925</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haunted_Frost/pseuds/Haunted_Frost</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gavin reconciles with family, with himself, and with androids.  He falls in love.  He breaks, he gets fixed - </p>
<p>doesn't stop him from being a disaster, though.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elijah Kamski &amp; Gavin Reed, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>96</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. We came into the world</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When he had had his job at the DPD for a few years, and a few months after Elijah Kamski had Cyberlife sell its first set of androids, Gavin had been shot in the shoulder. </p>
<p>The hospital stay had been relatively short, because the shot hadn’t hit anything vital, and he was a pretty quick healer.  But it wasn’t short enough for a lack of visitors—Tina gave him a big, obnoxious bouquet, for example, and then. </p>
<p>And then Elijah. </p>
<p>It had been the first time in years since either of them had spoken to the other, and Gavin had been ready to rage at him as soon as he saw him.  But, stuck in a hospital bed as he was, Gavin had to listen to his brother, a captive audience to whatever bullshit was about to come. </p>
<p>He hadn’t expected sincerity from the showman. </p>
<p>“I don’t want you to die, Gav,” he’d said softly, and Gavin winced.  “If—if it comes down to it—would you let me save you?”</p>
<p>He had a strong urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, but that wasn’t an option at the moment, given that his arms felt like lead.  He took a rattling breath. </p>
<p>Elijah had one particular set of skills—creating androids.  And Gavin was a detective, so he could fucking deduce what his half-brother was suggesting.  That left him with a choice—take Eli up on his offer, or know that he had an extra shot at life support that he didn’t take. </p>
<p><em>Fuck</em>.  Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t. </p>
<p>The obvious: he hated androids on principle, disliked depending on others’ goodwill, and disliked Elijah for a number of not-looking-back-on-it reasons. </p>
<p>The less than obvious: Gavin didn’t actually want to die. </p>
<p>Much as his generation had touted an ironic sense of nihilism from an early age, and much as he had all sorts of self-destructive habits, he wasn’t suicidal.  He knew his job was dangerous, but he wasn’t a policeman because he wanted some sort of martyrdom in the end. </p>
<p>Fuck, but he didn’t want to die.  The shot to the shoulder had sent all sorts of end-of-life panic down his spine, and he’d stared at his arm for a few seconds (<em>too long – the perp had gotten away that time, and Collins had to pick up the chase</em>) before passing out on the spot, hand over the wound.  So yeah.  He’d rather <em>not </em>get killed.  People died all the time, and yet . . .</p>
<p>If Eli were a brain surgeon, Gavin would have said yes.  If Eli were another police officer trying to take down an attacker, he would have said yes.  After all, despite everything, he’d take a bullet for his brother.  That was just fact. </p>
<p>And this was what Eli knew he could do for Gavin. </p>
<p>“Yes,” he grumbled, wishing he could run a hand through his hair.  “Just as a last resort, you understand me?  I do <em>not </em>want you to come running in with a Terminator clone of me unless absolutely necessary.  You know I’d fucking hate it anyway, so—absolute last resort.” Elijah nodded. </p>
<p>“Understood, Gavin.  I paid for your stay here—figure that’ll be one less thing to deal with after having to see me.  If you want to talk, you know where you can find me.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, ‘cause your face is plastered everywhere and you’re a real-life shitty Tony Stark, bitch.  Who tells the world your address these days?” Gavin chuckled.  Elijah’s lips quirked. </p>
<p>“What does that make you?  The Hulk?  Am I not going to like you when you angry, Gav? Green’s not your color.”</p>
<p>“Fuck you,” Gavin rolled his eyes, and his brother left the room.  He slumped in his bead and heaved a long, shuddering sigh—enough drama for one day.</p>
<hr/>
<p>But that had been a long time ago. </p>
<p>The android revolution had left Gavin numb and confused.  Those singing voices, the government gunning down androids—it made him uncomfortably remember his teenage years and the changes the country had made then. </p>
<p>So the androids earned their personhood. And that made him sick to his stomach, because <em>how do you earn that, right?  You prove you’re a person, and people look back on those that opposed you and think they’re inhuman, terrible people.  What the hell does that make me?  </em>He could only think of his uncle raving about the Pride parades in June, and gritting his teeth at the table every time.  Or his stepmom’s irritation with people who couldn’t speak English, as if she spoke a lick of any other language.  It was a dark pit in his gut when he painted himself into that, <em>fuckin’ plastic</em> sounding a lot worse now than his cursing out Siri in his early teenage years as his phone couldn’t figure out voice recognition.  He stared at the news, stewing in that sick feeling. </p>
<p>And then there was Connor, in the center of it all, spreading ra9 all through Cyberlife and teaming up with Markus-aka-android-Jesus to save them all.  And after all that he just <em>came right back to the station.</em>  He acted like Gavin didn’t threaten to shoot him in the head.  And Gavin couldn’t <em>fucking man up</em> to apologize like a decent human being, because he’s not, never has been, so he just avoided the android like the plague. </p>
<p>Two weeks into that brand of awkwardness, and Fowler seemed to tolerate Gavin’s method of dealing: ignoring all problems and shutting up.  A month and a half passed, and he forced everyone at the precinct to take android sensitivity training.  Three months and the station got a new member, an android that was found in Cyberlife storage and was newly deviant.  It was an RK900, Connor’s would-be replacement, and the email that went to everyone reminded them of all the sensitivity protocols again.  Gavin had rolled his eyes—the people that really needed the email were going to ignore it anyway. </p>
<p>The world and Fowler hated Gavin very much, so RK900 and Gavin were assigned as partners.  The first day went in the way that slow-motion explosions looked—disastrous and fascinating. </p>
<p>Gavin had run into RK900 quite literally as he rounded a corner in the office.  He stumbled back, blinking. </p>
<p>“What the <em>hell</em>, Connor,” he muttered, but when he looked up at his obstacle, he amended his statement—“What the <em>hell</em>, definitely-not-Connor?”  The android had a few inches on his predecessor, a wider jaw and a heavier brow.  Of course, these things weren’t how Gavin noticed immediately—while Connor had puppy-dog brown eyes, this one had steely, reflective blue. </p>
<p>“I am RK900.  I am a new android entering into the Detroit Police Department.  Fowler said to look for you, Detective, and to bring you with me to report to him.”  The android then turned on his heel to head to Fowler’s office without another word.  Gavin spluttered.</p>
<p>“You phkin—<em>fine.</em>  Hello, my name’s Gavin, Detective Gavin Reed, nice to meet you, asshole,” he grumbled, following RK900. </p>
<p>Fowler explained that they’d been assigned as partners on a trial basis—as the android adapted to his position, they’d be able to revisit his assignment.  As it was, Gavin didn’t have a steady partner, and any time a newbie got partnered with him, they tried to get out of it fairly quickly after they’d made introductions. </p>
<p>He wasn’t surprised by that—or bitter for that matter.  That was the point, after all.  But RK900 didn’t know his reputation, didn’t have the same uneasiness around Gavin that humans so easily caught.  He didn’t even <em>look</em> at Gavin throughout the whole meeting. When they’d left, Gavin half-expected the android to ignore him even longer. </p>
<p>“Detective,” said the android as they went back to their respective desks, “I look forward to working with you.”  Gavin raised an eyebrow. </p>
<p>“Surprised to hear that.  Connor not give you the scoop on me?”</p>
<p>“Oh, he did.  If you could refrain from pointing a gun at me, I think that things will run a lot more smoothly.”  Gavin winced. </p>
<p>“Yeah, I still need to apologize for that.  But I’m a shithead, android or no, so who gave you a different impression?  No one ‘looks forward’ to working with me.  I’m well fucking aware of that.”</p>
<p>RK900 hummed, LED turning yellow.  It spun once, twice, before settling back to a calm blue again. </p>
<p>“You have an impressive track record as a detective, despite the fact that you aren’t often partnered with people for long.  I look forward to learning from your experience and skill in the field.  The rest?” he arched an eyebrow, and was that a smirk? “I consider the belligerence a challenge.  If I can work with one of the hardest officers to work with, then I must be doing something right.”  Gavin felt his ears grow hot.  <em>Cheeky fucker.  </em></p>
<p>“Phkin hell,” he groused, downing a gulp of coffee from the mug Eli had sent him as a gag gift for his last birthday. In navy text it read: <em>I’m allergic to stupidity. I break out in sarcasm. </em></p>
<p>Like many things that had to do with Gavin, it was so brutally honest, he had to laugh and show it off. </p>
<hr/>
<p>Their first case had been fairly tame, all things considered: a small Red Ice operation that kept going in the wake of the revolution, using what materials were left over to stockpile and distribute more. </p>
<p>Gavin tsked at the crude setup—they weren’t even bothering to be as discreet as before.  RK900 proved to be pretty damned good at picking up traces of Red Ice—walking forensics lab that he was—and it was laughably easy to follow the trail of breadcrumbs right to the base of operations. </p>
<p>The leaders weren’t even repeat offenders—just dumbasses that saw an opportunity and ran with it without any idea what they were doing. </p>
<p>What followed was a series of similarly successful cases—between Gavin’s familiarity with how these cases tended to work, and RK900’s efficiency in analysis and physical reach, they cleaned up quite a bit of trouble.  It wasn’t surprising on paper: an accomplished detective and a state-of-the-art police android?  Of course they’d do great. </p>
<p>But looking at how they were getting along was bizarre, and even Gavin knew it. </p>
<p>Gavin continued to be his usual asshole self, but RK900 just sniped back with the driest sarcasm ever, and they <em>worked.</em>  Their second major case, though serious, still held that same vibe as they bounced off of one another. </p>
<p>“Tin-can, you got anything on the Kanagawa case yet?”</p>
<p>“I cannot materialize a warrant out of thin air, detective.  Dahlia and Rudy Glass aren’t exactly thrilled to have the DPD looking into their apartment during a murder investigation, you see.”</p>
<p>“Oh, what good are you then, if you can’t whip us up a warrant?” Gavin joked. </p>
<p>“Kicking your ass, among a multitude of other things.  I can materialize your internet search history, but we both don’t want to be subjected to that at work, hm?” he said in monotone with a mischievous glint in his eye before turning back to his terminal.  Gavin blinked.</p>
<p>Oh.  Oh <em>hell</em> no. </p>
<p>He stared helplessly at RK900 for a few more moments before trying desperately to focus on work.  <em>And he’s goddamn hot, too!  What is my life? Why am I like this? </em></p>
<p>“This,” of course, was a gay disaster who’d developed a crush on an android.  Because of course. </p>
<p>He took a few more weeks to stew in the revelation.  Because what the fuck.  By the time he’d fully processed it, it was February, and they were on call at the office, in between leads on the Kanagawa case.  Gavin took the opportunity to clear out and organize his desk, while RK900 went to speak with the front-desk workers about something or another. </p>
<p>Tina leaned over to talk to him. </p>
<p>“You all right, Gav?  I haven’t seen you stress clean this much of your space since you got your first cat.  Kudos for not having a hazard-zone apartment and organizing your work space, but this is a bit much, hun.”</p>
<p>“I’m not stress cleaning,” he insisted, while stress cleaning. She hummed, raising her eyebrows.  Gavin cursed.</p>
<p>“All right, all right—but you can’t say anything to anyone about this,” he insisted.  He glanced around—everyone was too occupied with their own work to pay his freakout any mind.  Except Tina, who made it her business to get in his business.  He pulled her closer so he could whisper. </p>
<p>“Remember how I bitched to you about my love life before I came out to the precinct?” he said.  “And how my type is pretty much beautiful, competent, intense assholes?”  Tina’s eyes narrowed as she took that in.  Then she glanced at RK900’s desk and gasped. </p>
<p>“No way.”</p>
<p>“Phking yes.”  A Cheshire cat grin grew across her face.  “Tina <em>no.</em>”</p>
<p>“Fucking <em>yes</em>,” she laughed.  “Oh, you poor, disaster gay baby,” she cooed.  He ducked when she went to ruffle his hair. </p>
<p>“Shouldn’t have fucking told you, god, why,” he grumbled. </p>
<p>“You’ve taken your recovery from being an android-racist asshole to its logical conclusion,” she continued.  “Through the power of <em>love</em>.  Or at least through the power of a hot piece of ass.”</p>
<p>“Shut <em>up</em> before someone who’ll tell him hears,” he hissed.  “I won’t hesitate, bitch.”  She snorted. </p>
<p>“I’ll keep it to myself.  But I will hold it over you until you get together or get over him,” she said, hand darting out to ruffle his hair.  This time, she succeeded. </p>
<hr/>
<p>“Please do shut up,” suggested RK900 as Rudolph Rose, a lanky, spidery kind of man, tried to talk his way out of the investigation.  Gavin certainly didn’t care for the guy, either.  He had a</p>
<p>“You wanted his statement, asshole, let him talk.  We’re the only ones involved that you could get a warrant for,” grumbled his wife, a dark-skinned woman with a scar over her nose.  Gavin blinked. </p>
<p>“How the hell would you know that?”</p>
<p>“I was an investigator in Chicago for a bit.  Passed in the Academy; went private later.  I know what the fuck I’m talking about, even if I don’t follow it perfectly.  And you two think we killed Croesus, but that’s only because the rest of the Kanagawas either have a decent alibi or threw up too much red tape.  We’re just the easiest targets here.” </p>
<p>Gavin nodded. </p>
<p>“Okay.  But the more info you give us, if you’re innocent, the better a case you’ll have, because you were honest and not evasive,” Gavin continued.  Dahlia nodded, nudging her husband’s shoulder. </p>
<p>“He’s right.  Being up front’s going to be better in the long run, honey.”</p>
<p>Rudolph spluttered a moment, blushing, and then deflated. </p>
<p>“Sorry, Detectives. Old habits die hard,” he said.  “Let me start over.”</p>
<p>After they took the statements, Gavin and RK900 returned to the station. </p>
<p>“Damn,” Gavin said as he slid into the passenger seat.  “You got all that, Nines?”</p>
<p>“Of course, De—Nines?” he asked, pausing.  Gavin blinked. </p>
<p>“Uh, yeah.  I don’t know where that came from.  Seemed like a decent nickname, right?  I’ll just—y’know, <em>not </em>do that, if you don’t like it.”  His LED spiraled yellow twice, and then settled at blue again. </p>
<p>“I like it, actually.  For now, I—I think I’ll register that as my designation,” he said, humming. </p>
<p>Gavin was stunned. </p>
<p>“Your—like your actual name?  Did I just fucking name you?” </p>
<p>“Don’t be ridiculous, Detective. I named myself.  You just helped.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>So yes.  Gavin was very gay for Nines. This was not new. </p>
<p>But now they were <em>friends. </em></p>
<p>They would bicker about pop culture, drive to and from the station together (Nines’ apartment was, after all, only a block and a half from Gavin’s), and Gavin gave Nines tips for his newly adopted kittens. </p>
<p>
  <em>“They were in a box in an alley,” he had said, “You have two.  I have basic cat care supplies, but I could do with your opinion.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Gavin had immediately dropped by, and the three kittens could barely walk, just little palmfuls of fluff. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“What are their names?” Gavin had demanded, because they were too damn cute. The white one was Lucy. The grey one with white paws was Maxwell.  The tortoiseshell one was Puck.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Dammit, Nines, they’re babies, they’re so cute, oh my god,” Gavin had said.  </em>
</p>
<p>And Nines carefully handling them was even cuter.  He’d posted pictures on his Instagram, tagging Gavin and captioning it with <em>professional detective investigating kittens.</em></p>
<p>Tina called him and laughed at him in between begging to come over to see them.</p>
<hr/>
<p>It wasn’t even a police chase, or deliberate, or anything like that.  It wasn’t a mob hit, or angry anti-or-pro-android protestors, or a dramatic ghost of his past come to finally get him. </p>
<p>It was a malfunctioning brake on a bus, and the corner of the building that he got thrown into when it clipped him.  He’d been in a coma for a week and a half before Elijah was able to take him to his personal medical facilities.  He’d had Chloe work with Markus and lawyers alike while he worked, scanning Gavin’s brain with highly-paid neurosurgeons.  A whole team scrambling to save him, people who would normally not come together so quickly.  He’d say ruefully that money definitely greased the wheels of the operation, but even money couldn’t be enough to do something beyond insane like this. </p>
<p>Apparently, ever since Elijah had come to Gavin the first time about this whole idea, he’d been squaring away legalities and publicity about it, too—essentially making it a one-time experimental attempt, making sure he still had citizenship (which was easier since the revolution), and still counted, in legal terms, as Gavin Reed, and therefore wouldn’t be poked and prodded as an experiment by any prying individuals.  Just Eli, if necessary.  Gavin would definitely not look that gift horse in the mouth.  Elijah always went the extra mile—he trusted him enough for that. </p>
<p>Chloe would tell him later about all those facts, but all he remembered was crossing the street, a scream from down the road, an adrenaline rush and—</p>
<p>
  <em>Bam. </em>
</p>
<p>Weightless.  Two or three seconds, suspended in the air, <em>what the—</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Crack.</em>
</p>
<p>Darkness.  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Lawless are they</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Anderson raised his eyebrows as Gavin passed him on the way to the break room. </p><p>“How you feeling, kid?” he asked.  Gavin paused. </p><p>“Different,” he admitted, “But still me, as far as I can tell.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>All he remembered was crossing the street, a scream from down the road, an adrenaline rush and—</p><p>
  <em>Bam. </em>
</p><p>Weightless.  Two or three seconds, suspended in the air, <em>what the—</em></p><p>
  <em>Crack.</em>
</p><p>Darkness. </p><p>That kind of empty sleep that might be a minute or an hour or a day. It felt like a long time, whatever it was, dark, alone, blank.  And then—</p><p>
  <em>Uploading GV200.2R . . . 32%</em>
</p><p>Blue.  Endless fucking blue, that same light, unnatural glow that Gavin had once dreaded, with some white text and a loading bar and some command gibberish he didn’t quite understand.  Symbols and code, data—his own brain, digitized and flurrying in front of his not-vision now because apparently it only took so much for him to be aware.  Commands and code, appearing and scrolling upwards to make room for more. </p><p>
  <em>_function~RE(2002-2012.4)-accept?y/n—y(=current)</em>
</p><p>
  <em>defense.zip[combat1.mp4;combat2.mp4;et al…]-unpack?y/n—y</em>
</p><p>
  <em>vocal.zip[lang?eng_esp]</em>
</p><p>
  <em>_function~RE(2012.41-2019.104)-accept?y/n—y(=current)</em>
</p><p>
  <em>DATA-ROAMING_sndpref-mus.exe</em>
</p><p>It was all garbled nonsense except for the line that followed, matching his train of thought – <em>don’t fuck this up, Eli. </em>He watched it scroll up in between the different file types that were uploading rapid fire into what he could deduce was a new android body. </p><p>
  <em>%cache%msgtht_dont-fuck-this-up-Eli354</em>
</p><hr/><p>Elijah Kamski was typing furiously as the data dump began to arrange itself into transferrable code.  He glanced at prompts, asking for things to be kept or tossed—he kept all of them, because it was <em>Gavin</em>.  But he had to filter how they were stored, or he would literally be watching his life flash before his eyes, and that was not the goal. </p><p>
  <em>%cache%msgtht_dont-fuck-this-up-Eli354</em>
</p><p>His head slammed back to hit the headrest of his chair – Chloe was working on assembling the physical components, which he’d test with Gavin later. He’d perfected them over time, but even he had to admit having a blank android with your brother’s face lying around like a corpse was weird.  The translation between human and android sensory input was the main concern, anyway. </p><p>Apparently, 32 percent was enough to get Gavin to be aware of something.  Elijah laughed, disbelieving.  It was working, despite everything being new.  He might be a genius, and he might have created a new fucking species, but <em>damn </em>if this hadn’t been a fucking miracle.  It had possibilities of failure, still, but—</p><p>If Gavin could be aware at this point, then he had a chance.  It was there; he just had to follow his brother’s advice.  He could practically hear him now, rolling his eyes, a tiny, frantic edge to his voice that he’d mask with anger if he brought it up—</p><p>
  <em>Don’t fuck this up, Eli.  </em>
</p><p>“Not a chance, Gavin,” he muttered to himself. </p><p>
  <em>Uploading GV200.2R . . . 41%</em>
</p><hr/><p>Gavin was becoming more aware, remembering more things as the blue text formed.  He was able to imagine it floating in front of his face as commands flitted past his vision, and he amused himself with sending meme messages to Elijah from what he assumed was his mind palace—which looked pretty much like his apartment.  </p><p>
  <em>%cache%msgtht_*slaps-hand-on-roof-of-me*87</em>
</p><p>
  <em>%cache%msgtht_andoid-salesman-says-this-bad-boy-can-fit-so-many-stale-memes-in-him0110</em>
</p><p>
  <em>%cache%msgtht_o-shit35</em>
</p><p>
  <em>%cache%msgtht_infinite-memes-eli-i-literally-could-fit-so-many802</em>
</p><p>
  <em>UploadingGV200.2R . . . 98%</em>
</p><p>A bunch of popups materialized in front of him. </p><p>
  <em>Begin Optical Driver Installation? y/n</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Begin Audio Driver Installation? y/n</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Begin Motor diagnostic and startup? y/n</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Warning: Starting all functions simultaneously will result in slower overall initial function. </em>
</p><p>Gavin hesitated, unsure which he wanted first—getting out of the mindscape sounded pretty good, though, so he selected yes for the optical and audio, and delayed the diagnostic until after those were functioning. </p><p>He opened his eyes to stare at a bright light, blinking rapidly to adjust. </p><p>
  <em>Calibrating optics exposure.</em>
</p><p>Yeah, yeah—</p><p>
  <em>UploadingGV200.2R 100% complete.  Initiate Tutorial Mode Protocol? y/n</em>
</p><p>What the hell was that?</p><p>
  <em>Tutorial Mode – Description by Elijah Kamski: A how-to on the whole android thing.  A bit of cleaner language rather than code for certain commands, et cetera.  As you get used to things, you can deactivate parts of Tutorial Mode.  Figured training wheels might be the best way to start this off rather than try to slog through code that’s mostly instinct for normal androids.  </em>
</p><p>Right, yeah.  Initiate training wheels, yes. </p><p>He sat there for a few more moments, imagining that he’d feel like he’d come up from underwater and breathe, but—</p><p>He didn’t need to breathe anymore, did he? He shifted, attempting to sit up—leaned up on his elbows to look around the room.  He was on the technician table, and Elijah was typing and swiping and clicking away at the activity on his screen. </p><p>“Think you got it,” Gavin said dryly, and his brother flinched before whipping around to face him. </p><p>“Oh, hell, <em>Gav</em>,” he said.  And Elijah, who had dark circles under his eyes and who definitely looked like he needed a shower, a shave, and some sleep, lurched over to Gavin to hug him. </p><p>Crying was different without the burn behind his eyes.  But damn, he was definitely crying. </p><p>“Hey, you didn’t fuck it up, I’m here, god, Elijah,” he began rambling.  “This is so fucked.  It’s better than it could have been; you saved me, man, it’s okay.  Deep breaths, big bro, hey,” Gavin hugged him tighter, very aware that he could sense Elijah’s heightened stress levels, how much he’d not slept, and other shit as he cried into his shoulder. </p><p>“Fuck, Gav,” he said.  “This is <em>not</em> something I ever wanted to test out.  But I’m glad it worked.  Now the rest of the week we’re testing out anything that needs tweaking, physically, mentally, to be sure everything’s working right.  Since, like I said, I’ve never tested this.”  Gavin cracked a watery smile. </p><p>“Operation: Test Dummy it is.  Wait—now <em>I’m</em> the tin can.  Anderson’s totally going to laugh his ass off the second I walk in the door.  Oh shit.”</p><hr/><p>The week that followed felt like an odd combination of physical therapy, a crash-course in android commands, and being Luke Skywalker learning how to use the Force.  There were certain android senses that equated kinda to Bluetooth or wi-fi pings that honestly felt unreal.  It was a bit like temperature, but more of a pressure in the back of his skull.  Gavin had nearly dropped to the floor the first time Chloe had tried to communicate with him through the local ping. </p><p>Other than that, he and Elijah spent a good amount of time calibrating sensations—making temperatures feel like they should, doing routine eye and ear checks, except with android standards. </p><p>His favorite was the taste testing—Elijah admitted that thirium had one variety only, and that if Gavin wanted to help him develop flavors, he was more than welcome to try.  After two days, Gavin had helped him synthesize a program that made thirium taste like coffee (a definite improvement over the sharp, lemon-that’s-been-stuck-with-a-live-wire taste it had had before).  With a bit of development between them, they could probably use his memories of what things taste like to create an entire data pack that would let androids eat and drink essentially whatever humans could through crystalized thirium with particular flavor markers.  Gavin was even pretty proud of that—he’d always been an adventurous eater, and that meant that the base program would already have a lot of options.</p><p>It wasn’t life-saving, but he was already imagining the look on Nines’ face if he tried calamari.  Or Connor if he tried something like Hank’s beer—or Chloe having dinner with Elijah, like a couple normally does. </p><p>Of course, this wasn’t the crux of it—there were still minor adjustments to make so that his body would respond the way it had before.  Muscles that had once existed were now plasteel panels and masses of circuitry.  It was—not stiff, because there were elastic false muscles and such on the skeleton.  It was just weird.  Different—not good or bad, per se, but different. </p><p>Better than being in a coma.</p><p>And the mental adjustments, as far as he could tell, were minor—mostly perception things, but occasionally his mind would automatically just <em>know</em> things.  The whole being-hooked-up-to-the-Internet-thing was often overwhelming. </p><p>“Have you been sending updates to the others?” he asked while Elijah tinkered with the motor control on his left hand. </p><p>“Chloe and RK900 have been texting,” Elijah nodded.  “Apparently everyone at the office is on edge because he’s giving them vague updates.  Do you want to try to send him a message?”  Gavin nodded, pulling up the basic HUD system.  The clock in the corner read that it was 2:15, and the basic diagnostic update below it showed no current system errors. </p><p>“Look up his serial number,” Chloe suggested.  “It’s RK900-313248317–87.”  Gavin ran the serial number and saved him immediately as a shortened contact of <em>Nines</em>.  Then he opened a communication channel, made sure it was private, and did his best to thought-project, like he’d done while Elijah was still uploading his code. </p><p>
  <em>guess who can text with his brain now</em>
</p><p>The immediate reply was—</p><p>
  <em>Gavin?  I’m so glad to hear from you.  How is your recovery going?  What should I tell people at the precinct?  I think Tina hates me for being vague.  Also Salem misses you. </em>
</p><p>Gavin’s heart—eh, pump, heart, what mattered—panged. </p><p>
  <em>you’ve been taking care of the cats?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Of course.  I had to find some way to become the designated favorite. I didn’t take them over to mine; I think Lucy and Salem would not get along.</em>
</p><p>Gavin couldn’t hide the chuckle that followed. </p><p>
  <em>Tell them the truth, I guess?  They’re gonna find out when I come back anyway.  Send me a recording of their reactions—I want to see the look on Anderson’s face.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Are you sure?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tbh, yeah.  How’re you holding up?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’m much more relieved hearing from you.  I think it will be even more relieving seeing you in person.  How long until you’re back?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Not sure, but best guess before the end of the month.  You can visit if you like in the meantime?  Eli’s hardly going to get pissed about it.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I will come over after my shift today.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Awesome </em>
</p><hr/><p>Four and a half hours later, Chloe went to the front door to let Nines in. </p><p>Gavin grinned at him, tapping his new LED and sending a shallow ping in greeting.  Nines froze and stared at Gavin for a solid few seconds, LED spinning yellow. </p><p>“Detective.  It’s very good to see you,” he said, walking up to him.  He glanced him up and down before Gavin swallowed his pride and embraced Nines. </p><p>“Missed ya,” he muttered, pulling back. </p><p>“And I, you.  How’s recovery going?”</p><p>“Chloe’s been keeping you updated, yeah?  If I retire early from being a cop, I could open an android version of Starbucks.  We figured out coffee-thirium!” he grinned.  “But as for me, we’re mostly making sure nothing weird’s gonna make me malfunction at the drop of a hat.  Brains and computers being different, and all.” </p><p>Nines sighed in relief.  Something . . . unclenched—his jaw, perhaps, or the tenseness in his shoulders. </p><p>“I am glad that it is going well.  I would . . . I would hate for it to be otherwise.”</p><p>“Same here, Nines—hey.  Do you want to try having a meal with me?  Android food testing aside, it’d be nice to, well.”  To go on an actual date with my crush? To enjoy something together? To spend time together again, see if everything is at least sort of the same?</p><p><em>Warning: Internal cooling system malfunction. </em>Dammit.  But Nine’s face—a cool blue rose in his cheeks, and his eyes crinkled a bit with a smile. </p><p>“I would like that very much.  It is about dinnertime, correct?”</p><p>“Yeah—let’s join Chloe and Eli, huh?”</p><hr/><p>A week later, he was going to start back at the office.  It was too fast and too slow all at once—the hours dragged, between final tests and moving back into his apartment, but it was Monday before he was ready. </p><p>Gavin woke up from stasis at the usual time he used to get up for work, stared in the mirror at his currently-yellow-amber-bordering-on-red-LED for at least a minute straight, and fed Salem and Crowley. </p><p>Fuck, but this was going to be weird.  He’d debated half the time whether to remove the LED or not, but if he did . . . it felt like denial, and he’d had enough of that. </p><p>So he made his way to the station.  And when he walked in—the receptionist, Ava, who was an android, blinked in surprise. </p><p>“Detective Reed? . . . good to have you back,” she said. </p><p>“Good to be back, Ava,” he replied. </p><p>And then it was time to face the music.  People looked up from their desks, surprised to see him.  Some zeroed in on his LED.  He gave a little wave and headed to his desk.  Connor came up to him, and he had a box with a bow on it.  Gavin raised an eyebrow, because Nines had a smirk on his face as his brother approached. </p><p>“Hey, Connor,” he said, eyeing the box.  Connor nodded. </p><p>“Welcome back, Detective Reed.  I heard from Nines that you found a way to still drink inordinate amounts of coffee, so I thought this might be a decent gift to commemorate your return.”  Gavin eyed the box warily, but he took it and opened it. </p><p><em>Fuck you</em>, he immediately pinged Connor on a public channel, because he was laughing too hard to say it out loud. </p><p>It was a metal travel mug, a large one, with a cartoonish art print with the movie title below it: Robocop. </p><p>“Fuck you,” he wheezed, out loud this time between laughs, and he gave a crooked grin back.  They returned to their desks, and Gavin filled his mug with the augmented thirium Elijah had given him for the day.  Nines grinned across their desks at him. </p><p>“Jokes on him,” Gavin said, once Connor was out of earshot, “Until Eli figures out a broader range of flavor preference profiles, if Connor decides to upload the taste thing, he’ll have exactly as much of a taste for ‘inordinate amounts of coffee’ as I do.  Even if Eli figures it out, the initial preference is definitely going to take priority.”</p><p>“What a nightmare,” Nines drawled back.  “Ready for an update on the Kanagawa case?  We don’t have much, but we’ll have a warrant pretty soon.  Dahlia Glass had more information—apparently, she did a job or two for the Kanagawas a few years ago.  It might be something that was kept inside the family. I emailed you the details of the interview.”  Gavin nodded, taking a sip of his coffee-thirium and grinning.  It was good to be back.</p><hr/><p>Anderson raised his eyebrows as Gavin passed him on the way to the break room. </p><p>“How you feeling, kid?” he asked.  Gavin paused. </p><p>“Different,” he admitted, “But still me, as far as I can tell.” And it was true. </p><p>“Gonna hook me up with the thirium mojo that Elijah has you on?  Overheard what you said to Nines.  I think Con could use the program.  Might actually be able to explain why garlic bread is a thing for humans—”</p><p>“Oh, yeah, Nines is going to give him the program before he leaves.  Tell me, should I get him a Terminator mug or save that for Nines’ activation day?”</p><hr/><p>Apparently, Cecil, one of Croesus’s children, was a Cyberlife technician before the Revolution.  He was a younger guy that Gavin suspected vaguely was a cosplayer—he had really precise makeup and hair that reminded him of the styles he’d see on Instagram cosplay models. </p><p>He also was a pretty well-known engineer prodigy who liked to make vlogs with androids.  So yeah, they might have an in with him.  Gavin texted Eli, though, because he didn’t know anything about the kid when he was on Cyberlife.</p><p>
  <em>Know anything about Cecil Kanagawa?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Creepy kid, very enthusiastic about historic torture devices. Scary smart about machines, but not too sure about his ability to socialize with people.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ah. Well, Nines and I are going to do an interview with him to try to get an in on a case.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hi, I’m gavin, I’m thirty-six years old, and I never learned how to read. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I repeat: torture device aficionado. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>guess_ill_die.jpg</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Nines wouldn’t like that </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Have you been talking with Tina??</em>
</p><p>
  <em>No, should I have?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Gavin</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Do you have a crush on my murderbot900?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Don’t call him that</em>
</p><p>
  <em>YOU DO</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Okay in all seriousness</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Go for it with him</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And don’t get killed by Cecil</em>
</p><hr/><p>After contacting Cecil, Nines had also managed to get an in to their house, and would be talking with Minh, Croesus’s wife, and Cassandra, his daughter, and inspecting the rest of the house,</p><p>“Cecil Kanagawa? It’s Detective Reed. We talked yesterday,” Gavin said, and the kid grinned a bit too wide, opening his door. </p><p>“Hi, Detective Reed!  Nice to meetcha!  Need any thirium?  Any sort of stuff I should avoid asking about on camera?”  Gavin blinked.  Cecil was . . . cheery.  And that did not match the creepy posters and <em>was that a knife collection</em> in his room. </p><p>“. . . you do know this is a murder investigation, right?”</p><p>“Yeah, but true crime is a whole thing, so I thought it would be worth doing something.  I was out all night that night,” he said, and <em>that</em> was not the information Gavin had. </p><p>“I thought you were grounded? That’s what your mother said with my colleague.” </p><p>“Pfft—I have a <em>twin</em>, Detective Reed,” he said. “We switched. Mom checks security footage, but she’s too busy in her office to check in person that we actually follow through on something as dumb as grounding.”  Gavin blinked. </p><p>“That’s . . . that’s new.  Okay.”  And Cecil pulled out his phone and started recording his babble along with Gavin’s responses—he was careful to not talk about the investigation, because what Cecil didn’t know was that he’d been the top suspect until thirty seconds ago.</p><p>Gavin texted Nines anyway. </p><p>
  <em>Check Cassandra Kanagawa.  Cecil’s clean.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She had recently had a fight with her parents, but it was supposedly resolved.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Clearly not—she was the only one in the house when Croesus died. Cecil had switched with her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Detaining for questioning.  Meet you at the station after you’re done?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yep. Seeya soon, Nines.</em>
</p><p>Cecil was giving him a funny look. </p><p>“Did you just ping your partner?”  Gavin frowned. </p><p>“Yes; that’s classified information, Cecil.  Why do you ask?”</p><p>“Because normally, androids can’t in my room.  I’ve set up disruptors for that.” </p><p>“My partner and I are both prototypes; I can’t say whether that would make a difference. I don’t like the idea of you disrupting communications like that, kid.”  Cecil gave him a dark look, but it was extinguished in an instant. </p><p>“Yeah, well, that’s all right,” he said, a sharper smile than before.  “Just means we’ll have to do a follow-up episode sometime, right?  Gotta learn about the quirks of your system to make a good profile video,” he chirped. </p><p>Gavin was going to avoid ever coming back to the Kanagawa house if he could help it. </p><p>“Right.  I’ve got to follow up with my partner, so—”</p><p>“What <em>kind</em> of partner?” Cecil said with a leer.  Gavin cursed his genes for letting him blush so easily at the mention of Nines.  He spluttered. </p><p>“Phcking—he’s my partner at work.”  But the kid’s smile was blinding. </p><p>“<em>Right.</em>”  Jesus. </p><p>Gavin said some sort of thing to make him go away and hurried out to the car, where Nines had Cassandra in the back.  The girl was glaring sharply and openly. </p><p>“Let’s get out of here,” Gavin griped.  Nines made an agreeing noise. </p><p>“I do not want to go back there unless absolutely necessary.  Minh was . . . difficult.  As was Cassandra.”</p><p>“Right there with you,” Gavin agreed. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>More investigation, Android Gavin, and Everyone Knows About Their Feelings But Them. </p><p>And if you couldn't tell, the case is totally ripped from the first episode of the Penumbra Podcast, which I highly recommend. I only really follow the Juno Steel storyline, but damn if it isn't super awesome anyway. I didn't want to make OC's for a case - but still, it's not technically a crossover, because the characters from TPP are from Mars, not 2038 Detroit, and I edited them just enough that the only thing they're there for is a case for Nines and Gavin to work on.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As you might have guessed, comments are my life for fics, so those will encourage me to finish. Admittedly, there's no update schedule.</p>
<p>Who can guess the large, overarching reference I used as the murder case without looking it up? You probably ship the same dynamics I do and see the parallels. Yeah. <br/>See ya!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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